


TeenFly 03 - Ambushed

by mystictimelord



Series: TeenFly 'verse [3]
Category: Firefly, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crossover, M/M, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-19 15:18:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4751144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mystictimelord/pseuds/mystictimelord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Proximity alert,” Boyd explained. “We must be comin’ up on somethin’.”<br/>“Oh. My. God!” Scott exclaimed dramatically. “What could it be? We’re <i>doomed</i>! Who’s flying this thing!?”<br/>Everyone was giving him weird looks. Even Derek was now giving him one of his Eyebrow Movements TM. This time it was number 3, simply known as the ‘WTF’ (it doesn’t stand for <strong>W</strong>here’s <strong>T</strong>he <strong>F</strong>ood. Or for <strong>W</strong>ell, <strong>T</strong>hat’s <strong>F</strong>antastic).<br/>“Oh, right,” Scott deadpanned. “That’d be me.”<br/>He kissed Isaac for a good measure, before adding “Back to work, I guess,” and running to the cockpit.</p><p>A.k.a.: Teen Wolf characters in Firefly's 'Bushwhacked'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Camaro

**Author's Note:**

> A new part for you guys. It's been a while, so, if there seem to be any inconsistencies, I would greatly appreciate it if you would notify me of them.

Stiles was sitting on the catwalk with Lydia on the opposite side from him, both looking down at the crew. The crew were fighting eachother in their beta forms.

By fighting, I mean sparring. To the first blood, no serious injuries.

First, there were Boyd and Erica. Boyd, despite having superior strength, was relying on tactics, while Erica was throwing punches and kicks everywhere she could. Apparently just for the sake of it. It was not a surprise that Boyd managed to win most of them.

Then, it was Scott and Isaac’s turn. They seemed evenly matched in many aspects, so they were fighting for quite a while … until it turned into a make-out session, for which they were boo-ed off the fighting ground. Never minding the boo-ing they were receiving, Scott lifted Isaac onto his hips and walked off the fighting ground, all the while kissing the hell out of eachother.

The last fight was between Derek and, surprisingly, Jackson. It was the first time that Stiles, or any of the crew, saw a kanima’s beta shift. It was both interesting and disgusting to see Whittemore getting covered in scales and growing a tail.

Focusing on Derek’s beta shift, he noticed that the canines became visible, and for some reason he’s got elven ears instead of human ones. Also, his eyebrows magically disappeared who-knows-where. Those were some _good_ eyebrows. Very expressive.

 _Why am I even focusing on such details?_ Stiles stopped himself in his thoughts.

The fight started.

“Hey, Stiles,” Allison greeted him, standing on his left.

“Hey, Allison,” Stiles greeted back.

“Any idea on who’s winning?” Allison asked.

Stiles looked back down to the fight.

“Not sure,” he answered after a couple of seconds of silence. “They both have their advantages and disadvantages. I’ve never seen any of their beta shifts before, so that was interesting to see. I guess, with Derek being an Alpha werewolf, he’s supposed to be stronger. Jackson does appear to be not _as_ strong, but he makes up for it in speed and agility.”

As if on cue, Jackson managed to kick Derek’s chin from beneath, resulting in the Alpha rearing back and in kanima to perform a perfect over-split in mid-air, landing gracefully on both feet, ready for more fighting.

“Also,” Stiles continued, “I’m not sure whether his tail is an advantage or a disadvantage. But so far, they seem to be on par with eachother.”

A couple of moments of silence between them.

“How is she?” Allison asked, pointing towards Lydia.

Lydia seemed to be entertained. Her face was a mix of amazed, afraid and impressed. Intrigued, the word is intrigued. She was taking the supernatural stuff easily, almost as if she already knew the supernatural existed.

“She’s good,” Stiles replied. “Better. She has her days …”

“Don’t we all?” Allison replied sarcastically.

“There are even moments where I recognize the girl that she used to be,” Stiles admitted. “But it passes. She still won’t talk about what’s been done to her.”

“Maybe she’s not sure herself,” Allison suggested.

“She dreams about it,” Stiles countered, “I know that much. I honestly don’t know what the government …”

Another couple of moments of silence between them.

“You know I supported Unification?” Stiles asked her.

“As did I,” she replied.

“I believed everything they’ve told us,” he admitted. “How the Hunters would solve our problems, right the wrongs … I wanted to be a part of that.”

“They have done many great things,” she admitted.

“Three years ago,” Stiles started, “if someone told me I’d end up here, in this situation, with these people …”

“They’re good people,” she said defensively.

“And I’m grateful for that,” he admitted. “Very grateful that … Is Derek a Captain, an Alpha, or is he something else to you? Because I’ve got no idea how to call him … politely. I never quite got around that.”

“Well,” Allison started, “when meeting with a possible employer, he prefers for his crew to call him Captain, or Captain Hale if the employer is a trust-worthy former Triskeliate. If the employer is a Supernatural and/or is offering the crew a job pertaining to the supernatural, then he prefers Alpha, or Alpha Hale if the name is respected among the employer’s people. But here, in downtime, you can call him Derek. Just Derek.”

“Well, in that case,” Stiles replied, “I’m very grateful that _Derek_ - _just Derek_ \- has allowed us to stay on board. But I’m not sure if Lydia can be helped much while she’s here. And she needs all the help she can get.”

“She can be helped,” Allison confirms, “and she will be. I think she knows what everyone has risked by letting her stay on board. I think she also knows that you were prepared to leave your whole behind. That was quite selfless of you.”

“I ‘selflessly’ almost turned her and I into wanted fugitives,” Stiles argued. “Instead, Jackson managed to do that to her _and_ himself.”

“Well,” Allison replied, “I guess we’re all running from something.”

That earned her a look from Stiles. In return, she gives him a small smile. He tried to figure out if she’s hinting at something, but he’s stopped by an alert.

The fight stopped and both Derek and Jackson shifted back into their human forms.

“Proximity alert,” Boyd explained. “We must be comin’ up on somethin’.”

“Oh. My. God!” Scott exclaimed dramatically. “What could it be? We’re _doomed_! Who’s flying this thing!?”

Everyone was giving him weird looks. Even Derek was now giving him one of his Eyebrow Movements TM. This time it was number 3, simply known as the ‘WTF’ (it doesn’t stand for **W** here’s **T** he **F** ood. Or for **W** ell, **T** hat’s **F** antastic).

“Oh, right,” Scott deadpanned. “That’d be me.”

He kissed Isaac for a good measure, before adding “Back to work, I guess,” and running to the cockpit.

Now, Stiles noticed how rumpled Isaac’s hair was. As was Scott’s. The looks didn’t suit either of them.

Bridge, Camaro

When Scott arrived on the bridge, the proximity alarm was still beeping. He sat down onto the pilot’s seat and started going through some protocols until he noticed a derelict space ship, just outside the window.

The ship was about the size of Camaro, and it was eerily rolling in place.

As Scott was watching through the window, he leaned forward to get a better look.

That’s when he sees a corpse hit against the window.

That’s when he lets out a startled yelp (read: high pitched scream), hits the steering wheel by accident and shakes the whole ship.

Meanwhile, Cargo Bay

“Hey, Stiles,” Isaac called, “would you like to try sparring with us?”

“No, thank you,” Stiles declined kindly. “If you haven’t noticed yet, I’m human and you guys are supernatural. Also, my skin is made of paper, my bones out of glass, and my balance is next no non-existent.”

And as if on cue, Scott happens.

And as expected, Stiles is on the ground.

Everyone not on the ground then decides to get to the cockpit.

Bridge

“Scott, did you get a stroke or something?” Derek asked as soon as he got there.

“Almost,” he replied.

Isaac was about to ask “What happened …” when he saw that derelict ship.

“ _Wuh de ma!_ (Mother of God!)” Erica cursed under her breath.

“Is anyone home?” Derek asked.

“Been hailing her,” Scott informed him. “If there’s anyone on board who’s as healthy as the guy we just crashed into, then there’ll be little chance they’ll pick up.”

“Can you bring us a little closer?” Derek asked.

“I’ll get you close enough to ring the doorbell,” Scott replied jokingly.

Everyone was now looking at the derelict ship. But no-one noticed that Lydia wasn’t among them. Instead, she was just down the hallway from the cockpit, pressed down against the wall. Even though she couldn’t see the ship, she knew what the voices were telling her.

“Ghosts.”  


	2. Bridge, Camaro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so here's another one. Again, if you spot anything fishy, feel free to point it out, and I'll fix it.  
> Comments and Kudos are always welcome.

“Is it a transport ship?” Derek asked.

“Well,” Scott replied, “it’s either a converted cargo hauler or a short range scow.”

“She shouldn’t be spinning like that,” Isaac added. “Port thrust is gone; that’s why she’s spinning.”

“But, a short range vessel,” Jackson asked, “this far out in space?”

“It’s been retrofitted to carry passengers,” Scott explained.

“Travelers sometimes pick them up from government auctions,” Boyd continued, “and can get them really cheap that way. Then, they just add a few modifications and you get yourself a one-way ticket to the outer rim.”

“Settlers?” Deaton asked, catching up nicely on the whole conversation.

“That ship could fit fifteen families,” Scott continued. “Maybe twenty if you pack ‘em tight enough.”

“Hang on,” Allison suddenly realized, in shock. “You said families …”

“You know what I think?” Erica cut in. “I think that the guy Scott ran over -”

Scott gave her a look of disapproval.

“Ugh! The guy _we_ ran over,” Erica corrected herself, “decided to kill everyone on board and then decided to go for a swim, into the vacuum.”

“Well, that’s cheerful,” Jackson replied sarcastically, “coming from you.”

“Shouldn’t we report this?” Deaton asked.

“To who?” Derek immediately replied. “Hunters? _Right_ , because they actually care about their taxpayers.”

“Then we have to,” Deaton stated.

“There could still be people in there,” Isaac added.

“If there’s anyone there,” Erica countered, “then why can’t we hear any distress calls?”

“There _is_ no beacon,” Boyd confirmed.

“Meaning that nobody’s looking for them,” Derek concluded.

“All the more reason for us to do the right thing,” Deaton reasoned.

“Can’t you just say a prayer or something as we pass the ship?” Erica asked the Druid.

“Do I have to recite you the Good Samaritan?” Deaton countered. “Because I have it memorized. Word. By. Word.”

Seems like an efficient threat. Let’s see what comes out of it.

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Derek replied. “But we _will_ check it out.”

Not the result I expected.

“So, what,” Erica asked, “‘Search & Rescue’ tug?”

“No,” Derek replied. “But Druid here’s not wrong. There _could_ be survivors. And if not, well … Then I think no-one would mind if we take a look around, maybe find something of value …”

A couple of moments of silence.

“Scott,” Derek ordered the pilot, “hook us up.”

* * *

It took some time for Scott to align with the derelict ship, syncing with the spinning, before he finally made contact between the airlocks.

In the cargo bay, Jackson was looking at Derek and Boyd at the airlock, suiting up into spacesuits and going through the checklist.

“Anythin’ caught your eye?” Erica asked accusingly.

“No,” Jackson quickly replied, “just … thinking.”

“About?”

“About how something as thin as mylar and glass can separate a person from … nothing.”

“Impressive what ‘nothing’ can do to a man,” Erica replied in turn. “Like that guy we ran over. He’s likely stuck somewhere out there, on our ship. It’s what space trash does; kinda latches onto the first big thing. Kinda like you and your girlfriend, don’t you think?”

To emphasize her point, she loaded her shotgun with a cha-chunk and stormed off to Derek and Boyd, who were currently giving her disapproving eyes.

Airlock

Derek’s gloved hand smacked the airlock control button. The door opened with a whoosh. Derek and Boyd stepped into the airlock. A couple of moments later, the airlock behind them closes. Also with a whoosh, if you’re interested.

“Scott,” Derek ordered through the com-link in his suit, “ask Camaro to knock for us.”

“ _As nice as you please…_ ” Scott’s voice crackled through.

A moment later, and the door of the derelict ship opened as well. And, surprise, surprise, it opened with a whoosh! Derek and Boyd have now finally entered the derelict ship. A few steps in, and the other door closes behind them as well. This time, not with a whoosh, but with a clunk.

Derek and Boyd have now turned on the flashlights, despite the footlights marking the way.

“Emergency power’s up,” Derek noticed.

Weapons ready, they cautiously move down the relatively dark passages. On their way, they pass an abandoned tricycle.

A minute later, they set foot in a cafeteria-style mess hall. Some of the tables are set up with plates of food in various states of consumption. Big ladles are still buried in now gnarly, old-looking grub in the tins behind the slop counter.

“Whatever happened here,” Derek observed, “it happened fast.”

Boyd just nodded in agreement and followed his captain to the bridge of the derelict ship. There was a book open on a dashboard. A coffee cup here, some board game in mid-play there.

“Everything was left on,” Boyd observed. “The ship powered down on its own. Also, there seem to be no signs of struggle. Like they’ve just -”

“Up and gone,” Derek concluded.

“Here’s a personal log,” Boyd pointed out. “Mid-entry.”

Derek presses the log button. The screen is just like the sound coming from it.

White noise.

Lydia and Jackson’s quarters, Camaro

Lydia suddenly sits up. She is gasping and covered in sweat – as if she just woke up from a nightmare.

Jackson is immediately at her side.

“It’s okay,” he tried to calm her. “I’m here. Did you have bad dreams again?”

Lydia shook her head. “No. Can’t sleep. Too much screaming.”

“Lydia, there is no screaming,” Jackson tried to reason.

Looking at him darkly she replied: “There _was._ ”

“Hey,” Erica chirped in, startling both Jackson and Lydia. “Derek wants us both on that ship.”

“They found survivors?” Jackson asked.

“Didn’t say.”

“ _Right,_ ” Jackson replied. “I’ll ask Stiles to keep an eye on Lydia.”

“Whatever,” Erica replied nonchalantly. “I’ll meet you there. But don’t forget – suit up.”

Bridge, Derelict spaceship

“What are you doing here?” Derek asked Jackson as soon as he got there. “Also, what’s with the suit?”

Jackson now looked at Erica, who was trying not to laugh … and failed miserably as she started to laugh her ass off.

“Wow, Erica,” Jackson deadpanned, voice muffled by his helmet. “Much hilarious. Such sadist.”

“That’s enough,” Derek scolded Erica. “We don’t have time for games.” Looking back at Jackson he then added: “Well, while you’re here, you could make yourself useful and help Isaac.”

Derek then tossed a canvas loot bag at Jackson.

“Let’s do this quick, everyone,” Derek said, to everyone. “Coupla loads each. No need for greed.”

“Where are all the people?” Jackson asked.

“According to the ship,” Derek explained, “the lifeboat launched about a week ago. We’ll assume everyone got off OK. Anyways, we’re here to pick the bones. You two start in the engine room. Erica, to the galley.”

Jackson now tried to pull his helmet off, but no success. Isaac then managed to pull it off his head.

“By the way,” Isaac commented, “you had it on wrong.”

Well, if that ain’t a shocker!

Also, Erica apparently heard that, if her mean laughter was anything to go by.

Once the bridge is left with Boyd and Derek, the beta gave his Alpha a datapad.

“Sixteen families,” Boyd explained. “The lifeboat wouldn’t support even a third of that.”

“I know,” Derek replied. He quickly activated his com-link and said: “Hey, Scott. Any luck?”

Bridge, Camaro

“I found a well matched schematic,” Scott replied. “The closest one, at least. And according to it, any valuables – if there are any – will likely be stored in C-deck.

“ _Good work,_ ” Derek replied. “ _Keep the motor running. We shouldn’t be long._ ”

As Scott signed off, leaned back and swiveled in his chair, he saw Deaton standing in the doorway.

“Can’t say I care much for this business,” he stated.

“It’s abandoned,” Scott replied.

“And if that’s the result of some violence?” Deaton asked. “What is that ship’s a crime scene?”

“Well,” Scott answered, “if it wasn’t before, it certainly is now.”

Lydia and Jackson’s room.”

“Lydia?” Stiles asked, knocking on the door. “It’s Stiles. I’ve got some food.”

He pushed the door open and noticed that the room is empty.

“Sh*t! Lydia!”

He now ran towards the cargo bay. And guess what? He spotted her, standing at the airlock.

“Hey, Lyds,” Stiles greeted. “You got me scared there.”

Lydia was now smiling at him. It was a rare sight these days.

“Catch me, if you can!” she said playfully, before punching the airlock button and running into the derelict ship.

“Lydia, wait! Come back here!” Stiles tried, but she already ran away. So, before he ran after her, he grabbed a bat.

As a safety precaution, not to use on Lydia and then drag her to safety.


	3. Derelict ship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on fire for some reason - which explains why I'm publising new chapters in short succession. I would like to notify you all, however, that this is not my regular pace (tbh, I don't really have a pace), so ...
> 
> Also, as always, comments and kudos are always appreciated. I'd like to know what you guys think - how to improve my work, maybe. Feel free to give me any advice you think I need. Also, I accept suggestions as to the whole story - if you want for me to add something - a reference, for instance - then feel free to suggest it and I'll see what I can do about it.
> 
> I'd also like to apologize for my digital verbal diarrhea.

Derek and Boyd were now standing in front of one of the storage doors.

“This is the one,” Derek informed Boyd.

Boyd tried to open the door.

“Locked,” he informed Derek.

“Now _that’s_ what I call a good sign,” Derek cheered as he brought up a mini-blowtorch.

Meanwhile, Engine room, derelict ship

“Aren’t you at least a little bit curious?” Jackson asked Isaac.

“’bout what?” Isaac asked.

“Well,” Jackson started, “what happened here. Like, why would anyone abandon their ship in the middle of nowhere like this?”

“Plenty of reasons,” Isaac reasoned, but then, he suddenly realized: “but, not mechanical.”

“What do you mean?” Jackson asked.

“Well,” Isaac explained, “there’s nothing wrong with anything in here. At least nothing I can see. Some of the stuff actually looks like new.”

“Doesn’t that make it even mo-”

“Ooh!” Isaac suddenly exclaimed. “A steamer compression coil! I’ve been bugging Derek about this for ages.” Looking at Jackson, he added: “Honestly, it’s been a miracle we’ve managed to get so far without it! Now, hold the bag open.”

Storage room, derelict ship.

The door fell with a thunk as soon as Derek stopped blow-torching it. Now both Boyd and Derek entered the storage room.

Moving to the crates, Boyd opened one of them. After a short inspection, he found family photo albums, heirlooms and stuff like that. Running the light across some other crates, he noticed they all had family names on them.

Personal stuff.

“Here,” Derek called out for Boyd, who was now approaching his Alpha. “We’ve got gen-seeds, proteins, crop supplements. Everything a growing family needs for a fresh start on a new world.”

“But that’s more than enough for fourteen families,” Boyd noticed.

“It’s quite a fortune,” Derek agreed.

“But, even on a lifeboat,” Boyd argued, “don’t you think that they’d take some of this stuff with them? They could definitely make room for it.”

Looking past him, Derek answered: “They didn’t escape.”

“What?”

“I don’t think anyone escaped,” Derek clarified, now pointing in the direction he was looking at.

Lydia was standing there, looking up at the ceiling. Derek decided point his flashlight in the general direction of her glare.

Bodies. Lots of bodies, strung from the ceiling.

Now that Derek saw the bodies, he now noticed the smell - it made sense; decay. But there was no smell of blood. _But why am I only noticing the smell just now?_ Derek thought to himself. _There’s no way people, let alone a person has done this. Unless … Oh no._

“I know what did this,” Derek announced, terror evident in his voice just as much as on his face. Before he could tell everyone about it, he was stopped by Stiles’ shouting.

“Lydia! Lyd- Oh there you are!” Stiles exclaimed as he saw her. ” _Jen dao mei!_ (Just my luck!)”

Looking at Derek with an apologetic look, he tried to say something, but was interrupted by Derek’s worrying glance.

“Get yourselves out of here,” Derek ordered to Stiles.

Stiles was wondering why were Derek and Boyd so fidgety, until he looked up.

“Oh,” Stiles replied, slightly shocked. “OK, Lyds, time to get back to Camaro.”

As soon as Stiles lead Lydia out of the room, Derek suddenly remembered.

“Erica,” he spoke into the com-link.

Mess hall, derelict ship

Erica was gathering valuables – or was at least taking stuff that _may_ be worth something. For some reason, her werewolf senses were telling her that she was observed, but, Erica being Erica, she paid no attention to it at the moment.

“ _Erica,_ ” she heard Derek’s voice through her transmitter. “ _Erica – stop whatever you were doing and get to the engine room. Take Isaac and Jackson off this ship._ ”

Erica was about to respond, but instead, she was attacked from behind, resulting in her roar. She gets attacked from behind again, but this time, she was hit in the head so hard, her reflexes triggered her gun.

On the way to Camaro, derelict ship

Derek was still trying to reach Erica – at least until he heard a roar. And a couple of second later, a gunshot.

He exchanged looks with Boyd, and they both come to the same conclusion together.

“Mess hall,” they replied in unison.

They already started running, but it wasn’t long before they reached Stiles and Lydia, who were now talking with Isaac and Jackson. He stopped for a moment to hear some of their conversation.

“We heard shooting,” Isaac said worryingly.

“Lydia,” Jackson said surprised, “what are you doing here?”

“I followed the voices,” she replied.

“And I was following her so she wouldn’t hurt herself,” Stiles added.

“Please, Lydia,” Jackson begged, “don’t ever leave the ship.”

“Unless you’ve got someone with you,” Stiles added, “someone who’ll know where you are.”

“We don’t have time for this!” Derek almost roared.

“ _Can you guys tell me what in the_ tyen shiao duh _(heaven knows what) is going on in there?_ ” Scott’s voice sounded through all of their com-links.

“I’ll explain later,” Isaac, Boyd and Derek said in unison.

Never minding the united order they just gave, they now all ran to the mess hall.

Once there, they saw Erica, who, on instinct, pulled out her gun and pointed it in their general direction. When her brain registered who she aimed her gun at, she immediately put it down and visibly relaxed.

“Did you see who hit you?” Derek asked immediately.

“Didn’t,” she replied. “Came at me from behind. Big, tough, strong. Might’ve hit him. I think.”

Now, Jackson, Issac, Stiles and Lydia have finally caught up with them.

“I think you did,” Jackson immediately pointed out to the blood trail.

It was leading to a grate in the wall. Noticing it, Derek started approaching it slowly. Also he motioned Stiles to give him his bat. Stiles did just that, but has also given a weird look to the Alpha. Yanking the grate out, he noticed there was a young man in there. Terror, fear, that’s what he smelled from him. Also, appearance-wise, he seemed to be around Stiles’ age.

_Where did_ that _one come from?_

“Mercy … mercy … no. Mercy,” the man muttered.

“It’s OK,” Derek tried to calm the man down. “No-one’s gonna hurt you.”

_More than we already did_ , Derek thought grimly.

“No mercy …” the man cried out.

“We’ve got mercy,” Derek said soothingly. “We’ve got lots and lots o-”

He never said the rest because he now hit the man with a bat, using it like a cue stick (a.k.a. thrusting the bat and hitting the man with the end cap). The man collapsed unconscious.

Derek now pulled him out, letting him fall to the ground like a sack.

“Oh, wow, Erica,” Jackson replied mockingly. “He’s a real beast! It’s a wonder you’re alive!”

“In my defense,” Erica countered, “he seemed bigger when I couldn’t see him.”

“Let’s get him to the med-bay,” Derek ordered. “I’d like to know how he survived.”

 


	4. Outside infirmary, Camaro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! Kudos, comments, suggestions, etc. always welcome!

“How long had he been living like that?” Allison asked.

“Dunno,” Isaac replied. “Must’ve been brave, though. For surviving … whatever he’s survived.”

“A real hero,” Erica cut in, her voice dripping in sarcasm. “I mean, c’mon, he probably killed them all.”

“Wha- no,” Isaac replied, “we don’t believe that.” Turning to Boyd, he added: “We don’t, do we?”

“Derek wouldn’t have brought him on board if he thought otherwise,” Boyd assured him.

Meanwhile, infirmary

Derek and Deaton were in the infirmary. Deaton was performing some basic tests on their ‘patient’.

“Pulse is rapid,” Deaton informed Derek. “Blood pressure is on the high side of the normal. To be expected.”

“Weak,” the patient muttered deliriously. “They were all weak.”

“Other than the bullet wound,” Deaton continued, ignoring the interruption, “there appear to be no signs of an exterior trauma. Although that crack to the head you gave him probably didn’t do him any good.”

They both noticed that their patient rose up a little, now looking through the glass, seeing other members of the crew.

“Cattle,” he muttered. “Cattle for the slaughter.”

“Dope him,” Derek replied quickly.

“I don’t think that’s-”

“Just do it!”

Deaton cautiously moved to load a syringe.

“No mercy … No resistance …”

Leaning over him, Deaton was about to use the syringe on the patient, but the latter grabbed his wrist.

“Open up! See what’s inside!”

Deaton quickly administered the shot, the effects of which caused for the patient to lose the grip on his wrist to loosen up.

“OK,” Derek said to Deaton, “let’s talk about what just happened here.”

Outside infirmary

“Does anyone know where Lydia is?” Jackson asked.

“She’s in my shuttle,” Allison answered, “she’s resting. Stiles is looking after her.”

“Thank you,” he thanked her.

Now, Derek and Deaton stepped out of the infirmary, shutting the infirmary door behind them.

“So,” Isaac responded, “how’s our patient?”

“He’s in remarkably good health,” Deaton replied, “despite borderline malnutrition.”

“He’ll live, then?” Jackson asked.

“Yes,” Deaton answered quickly.

“Which, to me,” Derek continued, “is unfortunate.”

They all seemed surprised at his statement.

“Not a very charitable attitude, Captain,” Jackson replied.

“Charity would be ripping his throat out with my bare teeth,” Derek responded.

“What!?” Allison shrieked.

“Only to save him the suffering,” Derek defended himself.

Turning around, Derek locked the infirmary door.

“Nobody goes in there,” Derek explained. “There’s nothing more we can do for him now. Not after what Deaton and I saw.”

“What do you mean?” Isaac asked, confusion evident in his voice as much as on his face.

“That ship was hit by Rogues,” Derek stated. “And that man is turning into one of them.”

As Derek walked away after dropping that bombshell on them, no-one immediately followed. They were all too mortified from the horror of the news.

“Rogues …” Erica muttered under her breath, still trying to comprehend the news.

A couple of minutes later, dining room

“ _Tzao gao_ (Crap),” Scott replied as soon as Derek has informed him.

“But, how can you know, Derek?” Stiles asked. Apparently, his babysitting was over, so that’s why he’s here, in the dining area.

“He doesn’t, that’s how,” Erica cut in. “No way.”

Erica still has problems accepting the news.

“It was the other guy,” she continued. “The one we ran over. Like I said before – he became insane, killed everyone and spaced himself.”

“Hang on,” Isaac cut in. “Just a moment ago you sai-”

“Doesn’t matter what I said.”

“I guess one of them was lucky enough to get out,” Derek spoke.

“What do you mean he was the lucky one!?” Stiles boomed.

“Luckier than the rest!” Derek defended himself. The second time today.

“Couldn’t be Rogues,” Erica thought out loud. “Can’t be Rogues. They don’t leave survivors.”

“Technically,” Derek offered, “they didn’t.”

“What are you suggesting?” Jackson asked.

“It doesn’t matter if we took him off that ship or not,” Derek explained. “He’s gonna live there forever.”

“I will not accept that,” Allison stated. “Whatever horror he witnessed, whatever acts of barbarism, it was done by men. Nothing more.”

“Rogues aren’t men,” Erica intervened.

“Of course they are,” Allison insisted. “Perhaps too long removed from civilization, but they’re still men. And I believe that there is a power greater than men. A power that heals.”

“Rogues might have issues with your philosophy,” Derek remarked. “ _If_ they have philosophy. And _maybe_ if they’re not busy gnawing on your insides.”

A couple of moments of silence.

“Erica is right,” Derek continued. “Rogues aren’t men. Or they forgot how to be; now they’re just … Void. Void of anything even remotely human. Which is what they became.”

“Why are we still sitting here?” Erica asked. “If there really were Rogues, shouldn’t we be gone by now?”

“I agree with her,” Scott added. “Also, I can’t believe I just agreed with her right now.”

“Work’s not done,” Derek explained. “There’s still valuable cargo, waiting for us.”

“Nope,” Erica nope-d. “Not going back. Not with those bodies there. Not if Rogues messed with them.”

“Would you, please, calm down?” Boyd requested. “Even I’m getting agitated because of you, now.”

An agitated Boyd was a rare occurrence, and as such, terrifying, even for Derek.

“I’ll go.”

Everyone turned to Jackson.

“It’s the least what I could do to help the crew. The bodies don’t worry me.”

“I’ll go with him,” Deaton added. “I’ll see what I can do to put those people to rest.”

“They’re already ‘resting’,” Derek remarked, using his fingers to make quotation marks at ‘resting’.

“How we treat the dead is a part of what makes us different than those that did the slaughtering,” Deaton reasoned.

After a small consideration, Derek reached his decision.

“Fine. Go say your words. Erica, help them cut down those people. Then, I’d like you to load up the cargo.”

“So, we’re sitting put for a funeral?” Erica asked.

“Yes, Erica,” he replied, “that’s exactly what we’re going to do. I won’t have these people looking over my shoulder once we’re gone. But I’m not saying there is any peace to be had, but, on the off-chance there is – then these people deserve a little of it.”

“ _Fong luh_ (Loopy in the head),” Erica responded. “All of you.”

After that, she stormed out of the dining room, Deaton and Jackson a few steps behind her. Isaac was beaming so hard at Derek that he could start glowing any minute.

But he couldn’t focus on that, because now, Stiles was in front of him.

“And just when I think I’ve got you figured out,” Stiles stated.

They’re staring into eachother’s eyes now. Derek can smell different emotions emanating from Stiles. Interest – no, intrigue. Happiness. Very subtle undertones of anger, slight disappointment, and – Oh, no.

Stiles is _turned on_ by this.

Slightly, but still.

They’re so close that they could kiss eachother if one of them would be gently nudged forward. And for some reason, Derek would be okay with that.

 _But what if Stiles wouldn’t be okay with it?_ Derek’s brain supplied him.

And as if Stiles read his mind, he took a step back, turned and walked away.

Derek, meanwhile, didn’t take his eyes off of him, until he could no longer see him.

“That was very nice, Derek,” Isaac said. “What you said.”

“Didn’t take you for a rituals-kind-of-a-guy,” Scott added.

“I’m not,” Derek explained. “However, it will keep everyone busy for a while. No reason to concern them with what’s to be done.”

“I don’t follow,” Boyd muttered.

Bridge

“I hate it sometimes that I’m right.”

Derek pulled up an up-close on the merging point of the airlocks. There was a tendril looking booby trap (I wonder who woke up one morning and decided upon himself to call it a booby trap. Honestly) between the airlocks.

“What is it?” Scott asked.

“It’s a booby trap,” Derek replied, stating the obvious. “Rogues sometimes leave them behind for rescue ships. It triggered when we latched on.”

“So,” Scott, continued, “if we detach …”

“…it’ll blow up.” Derek finished.

“OK,” Scott realized, “what if we just _don’t_ detach? We can just wait, until …”

“Until what,” Boyd continued, “until Rogues show up?”

“It looks jerry-rigged with a pressure hatch,” Isaac stated, observing the trap more closely and completely ignoring the conversation around him. “It makes sense – it’s the only thing that could work using spare parts. It can be easily bypassed if disconnected from DC line …”

“Isaac,” Derek inquired, “do you think you can do it?”

“Sure, yeah,” Isaac replied. “Besides, it’s not like you’d be able to yell at me if I fuck up.”


	5. Storage, derelict ship

Erica, Jackson and Deaton were wearing paper dust masks as Erica was lowering down the bodies.

Once the bodies were lowered, Deaton started his prayers. First, he said some lines from the bible. Even though he wasn’t a Shepherd, that didn’t mean he couldn’t decently perform a job of one. Next were the Buddhist and Shinto prayers. They seemed a bit tricky, what with the mandarin and requirement of precise pronunciation. The final one was Druidic.

Jackson wouldn’t be able to describe it. He didn’t understand anything Deaton said during that ceremony, but at the same time, he subconsciously did.

Erica, however, was only waiting for the ceremony to end, so she could get over with the bodies and deliver the cargo.

Meanwhile, cargo bay, Camaro

The floor in the cargo bay was opened by Derek and Boyd to reveal the innards of their ship. Isaac immediately jumped in. Scott handed him the necessary tools and, after they exchange a quick kiss (because they can), Isaac starts crawling through Camaro’s innards towards the airlocks.

He had to squeeze in tightly because of the confined space. After some wriggling and crawling, he saw the red lights of the booby-trap tendrils, right where the airlocks meet.

Once he approached it close enough, he started studying it. He knew it functioned with pressure, which, according to the fact that spare parts were used to build it, suggested hydraulics were involved. So, he doesn’t need to cut any wires.

He just has to jab the hydraulic tube and let the fluid slowly ooze out.

Storage, derelict ship

Erica was dragging crates onto the dolly, slamming them together. The prayers were finally over, so she rolled the dolly to the airlock and back to Camaro.

Once the door to Camaro opened, she noticed Derek, Boyd, Scott and Isaac just standing there.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“Nothing,” Derek replied. “Right?”

“Right,” Isaac replied immediately. “Nothing.”

“It looks like _some_ thing to me,” Erica countered.

Now, Deaton and Jackson walked in through the airlock, which Derek noticed and, in turn, pressed the button to close the airlock.

“We thought we had a situation,” Derek explained, “but it’s been taken care of. Let’s get that stuff stored.”

Erica still wasn’t convinced, but she’s done what she’s been ordered.

“Scott,” Derek speaks into his transmitter, “everyone’s home. Let’s go!”

A couple of seconds after Scott’s successful detachment, guess what goes off?

The infamous proximity alert.

“No, no, no,” Erica panicked. “It’s Rogues! They came back!”

“Get that stuff stored,” Derek ordered, already moving in action.

“Like it’s gonna matter,” Erica countered.

“Just do it!” Derek barked back, now running with Boyd towards Scott.

Bridge

“Rogues?” Derek asked.

Scott shook his head. _No._

Suddenly, a massive spaceship takes over a majority of the cockpit window. But it was not just any ship.

It was a Hunter Cruiser.

“ _Firefly class transport,_ ” a male voice sounds the radio. “ _You are ordered to release control of your helm. Prepare to dock and be boarded_.”

“Seems like civilization finally caught up with us,” Derek muttered jokingly.

Bridge, Hunter cruiser

“It doesn’t have mandatory registrations on the bow,” Commander Harken commented, pointing at Camaro. “Make sure we cite them for that. What is it, ensign?”

“Sir,” the said ensign reported, “we’ve identified the transport ship they were attached to. It was licensed to a group of families out of Bernadette. They were due to touch down in Newhall three weeks ago. Never made it. We’ve been hailing the vessel, got no response. Appears to be derelict.”

“Continue hailing,” Harken commanded. “Once we’ve secured these vultures, we’ll send a team over. Check it out.”

“Didn’t we have a flag a while back on a Firefly?” a radio operator asked.

“Check,” commander ordered.

“Here,” the radio operator reported. “Alert issued for _unidentified Firefly Class. Believed to be carrying two fugitives. Male and female._ ”

“What are they wanted for?”

“Not available. Classified.”

“Forty thousand of these old wrecks,” commander sighed, “and that’s all they give us? Well, I won’t have any surprises on my routine stop. We run into these two, shoot first. The higher-ups can sort it out later.”

Meanwhile, cargo bay, Camaro

“Was it Rogues?” Erica asked as soon as she spotted her Alpha.

Derek just gave her a blank look.

“Open the stash,” he deadpanned, “pull out the goods.”

“But I’ve just finished putting it all in,” she objected.

“That you did,” Derek confirmed, “and now I’m telling you to take it all out again.”

“Why?” she asked.

“I’m not gonna argue about this,” he ordered. “In about two minutes, this boat will be boarded by Hunters.”

“No,” Jackson argued. “We can’t let them on board. We’ve gotta run!”

“We can’t,” Derek explained. “They’re pulling us in.”

“If they find us,” Jackson continued, “they’ll send Lydia back to that place. To be tortured. I’d never see her again!”

Ignoring Jackson, Derek looked at Erica and gave her an order.

“Stack everything right here, in plain sight. We wouldn’t want it to seem as if we were hiding something. Might give those Hunters the wrong impression.”

“Or the right one,” Scott added mockingly.

“That, too,” Derek agreed. Turning to Jackson, he added: “Now go fetch Lydia.”

“Why?” Jackson asked accusingly. “Are you going to put her in ‘plain sight’, too?”

“Don’t argue with me,” Derek warned. “Just do as I say.”

“Is that why you let us stay?” Jackson continued. “So you could use us like bargaining chips?”

“Ha! I knew it!” Erica exclaimed, throwing an _I-told-you-so_ look in Isaac’s direction, who, in turn, gave her a stink-eye.

“They’re not taking her,” Jackson continued, ignoring Erica’s interruption, “and you’re not giving her to them!”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Deaton suddenly spoke out. “Do as he says.”

* * *

The airlock to Camaro opened with a whoosh. A small squad of Hunter soldiers streamed through it, their boots clicking on the hard floor.

Commander Harken was now looking at the crew of Camaro. From left to right, he saw Derek, Boyd, Erica, Scott, Isaac, Allison and Deaton, standing in a line.

No sign of Lydia, Jackson or Stiles.

Harken gave a signal to his lead man. The soldiers moved in and started relieving the crew of any weapons.

“Well now,” Derek addressed the commander, “ain’t this a whole lotta fuss. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought we’d be considered dangerous.”

“Your vessel, I presume?” the commander asked Derek.

“It is,” he replied. “Bought and paid for. Captain Derek Hale.”

“Is this everyone, Captain?” Harken asked.

“By the way of crew, yes,” he answered. “Except for one guy in the infirmary; he was rescued from that derelict ship.”

Harken nodded to a couple of his men. The said men headed off to the infirmary.

“Straight back,” Derek guided them, “next to the common area.”

“And these items,” Harken pointed out the crates, “I take it you’ve ‘rescued’ them as well? Looks to me like an illegal salvage operation.”

“Does it?” Derek inquired. “That’s discouraging.”

“Hunter property, too,” the commander continued. “You could lose your ship, Captain. But that’s a wrist slap compared to the penalty for harboring fugitives. Male and female. When I search this vessel, I won’t find them, will I?”

“My whole crew is right here,” Derek pointed out. “Does anyone from my crew match your criteria for those fugitives?”

“No, they don’t,” the commander replied. “But maybe you’ve stowed them away? No-one could blame you for that, Captain. I know how these Fireflies have those troublesome little nooks.”

“Do they?”

“Smugglers and the like tend to favor them for just that reason. We’ll continue this conversation in a more official capacity.”

Turning back on the crew, the commander issued the following order:

“Every inch of this junker gets tossed.”

“Junker?” Isaac replied immediately, shock prominent, but fury slowly rising in his voice.

“Calm down, Isaac,” Derek tried to calm him down.

“Did you hear what that son-of-a- _hwoon-dahn_ called Camaro? I’ll show him …”


	6. Interrogation room, Hunter cruiser

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little note to Blitzdrake: I hope you'll be OK with Isaac's hissy fit.  
>  **UPDATE: I fixed the ending of this chapter a little. Shouldn't be too big-of-a-change.**

“You’re a Companion,” Harken asked.

“Yes,” was the short reply that came from Allison, her expression that of a schooled calm.

“I see here,” the commander pointed out the files, “that you were based on Sihnon for several years, and it’s only been in the last year that you’ve been shipping out with the crew of The Camaro.”

“It’s just ‘Camaro’” Allison politely corrected her interrogator, “but yes, that’s correct. It will be a year in a few weeks. Can you tell me why do you think that’s important?”

“Just piecing some facts together,” the commander explained. “It’s a curiosity; a woman of your stature, falling in with these … types.”

“Not in the least,” Allison reasoned. “It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement; I rent the shuttle from Captain Hale, allowing me to expand my client base, and the Captain finds that having a Companion on board opens certain doors that might otherwise be closed to him.”

“Do you love him?”

* * *

“I don’t see how that’s relevant,” Boyd argued.

“Well, he is your Captain,” Harken continued.

“Like a brother, I guess,” Boyd replied.

“How did you two meet?”

“He was looking for crew members,” Boyd explained. “I happened to be one of those strong-but-silent, trust-worthy types, which got me accepted in just under a minute from the first time we met.”

“And when did you become his second-in-command?”

“A couple of months later. Yet I still don’t see how that’s any of your business. We’re very private people.”

* * *

“His eyes, I think,” Scott replied to one of commander’s questions. “No, no, no, his golden curls. No, wait, his shy personality. Wait, I’ve got it! I’ve _got_ it! It’s the _whole_ package. Write that down! If you must.”

He might’ve been asked about what was the thing he loved about Isaac.

Speaking of whom …

* * *

…he seems to be having his anger-fueled techno-babble diarrhea. A rare event, since Isaac is one of those difficult-to-insult/aggravate people.

But, when a nerve is struck …

“…six Gurstler engines under _every_ cooling drive,” Isaac spat out, words dripping with anger, “so that you strain your primary artery function and end up having to recycle secondary exhaust through a bypass system just so you don’t end up pumping it into the main atmo-feed and asphyxiating your crew.”

Catching his own breath, he added: “What _genius_ thought up _that_ lame design? Your ship is _‘junk’_!”

* * *

As expected, Erica’s interrogation didn’t go anywhere. She just sat there, arms crossed, mouth shut. Typical silent treatment.

* * *

“Pirates with their own Chaplain,” the commander noted. “There’s an oddity.”

“Not the only oddity this end of space, Commander,” Deaton replied, cryptic as ever. “Way of things is not always as plain as are on the central planets. Rules can be a mite fuzzier.”

“Not for me,” Harken replied. “Our rules are written down. In books.”

“As are mine,” Deaton replied. “But we’re talking different books, here.”

A small smile appeared on the commander’s face. But just for a moment.

“Beacon Hills,” Harken inquired, “home to a fairly pious order. How long were you in residence there, Druid?”

“Don’t recall,” Deaton answered. “Didn’t keep track of the days there. Seemed long enough, though.”

“You met up with Captain Hale and his crew on Persephone.”

“That’s true.”

“These fugitives we’re looking for, male and female, they were last seen on Persephone.”

“That a fact?”

“They also left port aboard a Firefly class transport. Just about the time you shipped out with Camaro.”

“Persephone is a big place.”

“But that Firefly isn’t. And if there is anyone hiding anywhere on it, we’ll find them.”

* * *

“I’ll assume that you’ve been over to that derelict,” Derek hypothesized. “Seen it for yourself.”

“I did,” the commander confirmed. “Terrible thing.”

“You want my advice?” Derek offered. “Blow it up. Fire the whole thing from space. Be done with it.”

“The ship is evidence,” Harken explained, “and I’m not in the habit of destroying them.”

“ _Right_ , since it’s against the _rules_ ,” Derek sassed. “But tell you what; I’ll make _another_ assumption, and assume this is your first time to the border.”

A moment of silence.

“That’s a very loyal crew you have there,” the commander noted. “But what I see by your record, you tend to inspire that quality in people – Sergeant.”

“I’m not a Sergeant,” Derek corrected him. “Not anymore. The war’s over.”

“For some, the war will never be over,” Harken continued. “I noticed your ship was called ‘Camaro’. You were stationed on Hera at the end of the war. That’s where the infamous ‘Battle of Camaro Valley’ took place.”

“I think you may be right, you know?” Derek sarcastically commented.

“The Triskeliates suffered quite a crushing defeat there. Some say that, after Camaro, the Triskeliates were through, that the war really ended in that valley.”

Derek hummed at that statement.

“It seems odd,” the commander continued, “that you’d name a ship after a battle you were on the wrong side of.”

“It may have been the wrong side,” Derek argued, “but I’m still not convinced that it was the wrong one.”

“Is that why you attacked that transport?”

”Wha-”

“You’re still fighting the same battle, _Sergeant_. Only these weren’t the soldiers you murdered. They were civilians. _Families_! Loyal to the Hunter cause, trying to make a new life for themselves. But you can’t stand that, can you?”

“Let me get this straight,” Derek inquired. “You assume _we_ attacked the ship, and then brought the only living witness back to our infirmary?”

“I would ask the survivor … but I imagine he’ll have trouble speaking with his tongue split down the middle.”

Realization suddenly struck Derek with full force.

“ _Wuh de tyen ah_ (Dear god in heaven).”

“Not to mention the amount of blood that was splattered all over your infirmary. Which was, surprisingly, black and silver, and not red.  I haven’t seen mercury in torturing techniques since … well, the war.”

 _Black and silver blood_ , Derek thought. _The silver stuff being mercury. It can’t be._

“… should’ve known …” Derek murmured. “… should’ve seen this coming …”

“You and your crew will be bound by law,” the commander continued. “Formal charges will be transmitted to central authori-”

“Commander,” Derek interrupted. “I am _not_ what you need to be concerning yourself with right now. If things go the way they are – there will be blood.”

One _excruciatingly_ thorough explanation later

“Rogues?” Harken echoed.

“That’s what I said,” Derek confirmed.

“Do you have _any_ idea just how many times I hear that ‘ _the Rogues did it_ ’?”

“It’s the truth!”

“Then you’ve seen them?”

“Wouldn’t be sitting here and talking with you if I did.”

“Of course not.”

“But I’ll tell you who did,” Derek offered. “That poor bastard you took off my ship; he looked right into the face of it, or was at least made to stare.”

“It?”

“The darkness,” he explained. “The kind you can’t even imagine. Blacker than the space.”

“That’s very poetic, coming from you.”

“They made him watch,” Derek continued. “He probably tried to turn away, but they wouldn’t let him. You call him a ‘survivor’? He’s not. A man comes up against that kind of will, the only way to deal with it is to become it. He’s following the only course that was left for him. First, he’ll try to make himself look like one; he’ll start cutting himself and desecrating his own flesh. Then, he’ll start acting like one.”

Harken seemed to be considering those words for a moment, then he hit a button on the table. A second later, the door opened and two soldiers appeared at it.

“Escort him to the brig,” the commander commanded.

“Lock me up,” Derek offered, “I’ll thank you for it. But me and my crew are gonna be the only ones on this ship that’s safe, unless you move to act. Immediately.”

“And let’s not put him in with his compatriots,” Harken added. “In fact, let’s see to it that they’re all separated.”

In that moment, the ensign entered. He looked pale, and terrified. He moved close to his commander and whispered his report.

It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out what the news was. Especially after the following orders from commander Harken.

“Get him out of here. Go to full lock-down. I want guards on the nurs-”

“It won’t matter,” Derek interrupted. “You won’t find him. _But_ , I know where he’ll go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't explect the black and silver blood thing, did you? (such evil, much wow) *insert evil laughter*


	7. Airlock between Hunter cruiser and Camaro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so the next chapter is going to be the final chapter (or so I plan). So I hope you enjoy this one - it has some personal touches.
> 
> Again, if you have a comment, critique, suggestion ... anything about my story, feel free to tell me, and I'll see what I can do about it.

There was a dead guard on the floor. If it wouldn’t be evident from the stillness of the corpse, then the blood and bite marks might’ve been the next best thing to give it away.

“Why would he come back here?” commander Harken asked.

“Looking for familiar ground,” Derek explained. “He’s on the hunt.”

Commander nodded to his men, signaling them to ready themselves to enter Camaro’s cargo bay.

But it appears that our ‘precious’ commander had some other plans in mind as well.

“Get Captain Hale to the brig,” he ordered to one of his men.

“You should let me go with you,” Derek countered.

“Out of the question.”

“How many more men do you feel like losing today, Commander?” Derek tried. “Nobody knows Camaro better than I. _I_ can help.”

Harken actually considered that one.

“We’ll let him in first,” the commander announced.

“Great,” Derek replied, “but what about …?”

_Right_ , I forgot to mention – Derek has his hands cuffed behind his back. He was now jiggling them to Harken. The commander understood his intentions, so he motioned to one of his men to hand him a key. Once obtained, he unlocked one of the cuffs, just to put both of Derek’s hands to his front and locking the cuff right back on.

“Thanks,” Derek replied sarcastically. “Now I _really_ have the advantage.”

“Open it,” the commander ordered, ignoring Derek’s sassing. “Also, we should split u-”

“Best if we stick together,” Derek cut in. “Unless you’re in mood to get picked off.”

Another consideration later, Harken made another decision.

“Keene. Escobar. Stay here and watch the door. I don’t need this … thing … back on my ship.”

* * *

As soon as they entered Camaro, Derek being used as a Hunter shield, they scoped all the places. So it was logical to start with the cargo bay. They continued to infirmary (where one of the men lost his lunch – a.k.a. vomited, barfed, puked ... why are there so many words for it?), up to the catwalk (they skipped the shuttles because they were locked) and into the engine room (a mess – Derek will need to discuss this with Isaac at some point).

No sign of ‘the thing’ so far.

They were moving towards the common area/kitchen/dining area.

The cutlery was spilled all over the floor.

Derek and the commander share a look. They know what that meant.

Suddenly, one of Harken’s men was attacked by ‘the thing’. The commander had to turn around in order to see it. It was then that the claws slashed across his arm, leaving blood on his arm and splashing onto his face.

Harken was fumbling for his gun. Once he finally had it in his arm, ‘the thing’ knocked it away and lunged at him. Only to be halted by Derek’s outburst, leaping at his back and bringing his cuffed hands over his head and around ‘the thing’s throat. A strong pull at the chains later, a crack sounded, and ‘the thing’ collapsed.

Now, Harken could finally have a good look at it. Hideously mutilated face, flesh peeled back, mouth pinned in a grimace by various bits of metal, dried smudges of black and silver covering all of the bleeding wounds.

Scarcely human.

That ‘thing’ was scarcely human.

A look of understanding was exchanged between Harken and Derek.

* * *

Derek was in the cockpit with Scott, Boyd and Erica. They were allowed to detach from the Hunter cruiser and were now observing the derelict ship spinning away. He and commander Harken came to a truce; they could detach from the cruiser _if_ they return all the Hunter-marked cargo.

“But you saved his life,” Erica argued. “And still, he took that cargo. _Hwoon dahn_ (Jerk).”

“I had to,” Derek explained. “It wouldn’t be a civil thing to do.”

There was, however, another agreement on which the captain and the commander agreed on; the derelict ship was to be destroyed, all evidence of these events turned to dust. Which was why the torpedoes were launched from the Hunter cruiser, leaving behind a short light trail. When they connected with the derelict ship, a series of soundless explosions lighted up the dark space, making the ship cave into itself and glowing in embers.

Derek didn’t stick around after the explosions. Instead, he decided to catch up with everyone else.

* * *

In the dining area, Derek saw the rest of the crew: Stiles, Allison and Isaac were animatedly chatting about something with a passion, a _gusto,_ if you will, over a meal of protein. Meanwhile, Jackson and Lydia were listening to what Deaton had to say.

The moment Derek stepped in, Stiles’ eyes immediately connected to his. Stiles excused himself from the conversation and stepped right up to him.

“Hey,” Stiles said joyfully. “Glad you’re OK. Has that ship been dealt with?”

“Yes, it has,” Derek replied in turn. “I agreed with the Hunters to destroy the thing. We also agreed to be quiet about it; not to tell a soul. Can’t believe I actually _agreed_ on anything with Hunters.”

“Well, now you did,” Stiles tried. “Speaking of not believing stuff; I can’t believe _your_ plan _actually worked_!”

A few minutes prior to Hunters boarding Camaro, Allison’s shuttle

Lydia just woke up from her nightmare, startling both Allison and Stiles with her nightmare-induced gasping.

“It’s OK, Lydia,” Allison tried to calm her down, “it was just a nightmare.”

“You’re safe now,” Stiles added.

“No, we’re not,” Lydia immediately replied, horror evident in her voice, then quietly repeating it to herself over and over again. No-one knew what her nightmares were about – except herself.

The man in the infirmary. He turned … void. She wouldn’t know how to explain it otherwise. But whatever he was, she didn’t like it in the least.

Her thought process was stopped by Jackson, who just entered the shuttle.

“Hey, Lydia,” he greeted her weakly. “Derek wants to see you. He has something to say to you.”

“Now?” Stiles exclaimed cautiously. “Couldn’t _he_ walk all the way up here and tell her _himself_? Also, really? At a time like this? She just woke up from a nightmare, you -”

“Hang on,” Allison cut in. “What were his precise words, again?”

Jackson visibly shifted from discomfort the next words would bring.

“He told me to ‘go fetch her’.”

There was a moment of silence. Allison and Stiles exchanged a look. After, apparently, silently agreeing on something, they stormed out of her shuttle.

“No, no, no, wait!” Jackson shouted after them. “Don’t!”

Having Derek in clear sight from the catwalk, they started.

“Derek Hale, you son-of-a- _meh_ - _lien_ - _duh_ - _jyah_ - _jee_ (shameless hussy, literally ‘faceless bastard prostitute’)!” Stiles shouted.

“’Go _fetch_ her!?’” Allison continued. “How _could_ you!? She’s not a dog!”

“Now that I have _both_ of your attentions,” Derek shouted back, successfully ignoring their comments in the process, “I would like to inform you that we will be boarded by the Hunters in a few minutes.”

That effectively prevented the outbursts that would’ve happened.

“I was going to tell you,” Jackson explained from behind them, “but then you two just stormed out.”

“I’ve got a plan, by the way!” Derek broke in. “And I think it’s a good one. So, if everyone could get down here ASAP so I can explain it …”


	8. A couple of minutes prior to Hunters boarding Camaro, cargo bay

“So, let me get this straight,” Stiles surmised. “Lydia, Jackson, and I” he pointed out at the group, all suited up in ‘shiny’ spacesuits, “get out into space and wait there until …”

“Until you’re five minutes away from spending the whole air-tank,” Derek continued. “Then, you carefully board Camaro through one of the auxiliary hatches and get yourselves somewhere safe.”

“You can use my shuttle,” Allison offered, holding out the key to the group. It was Jackson that took it reluctantly.

“But what about you?” Stiles asked, pointing in the general direction of the rest of the crew. “What are you going to do?”

“They’ve got it covered,” Deaton assured him. “They all took their lycanthropic suppressants, Allison and I being the exception.”

“They suppress our beta shifts and a part of our strength,” Derek explained. “We could easily pass as more athletic than people in average.”

“As if you aren’t ‘more athletic than average’ already,” Stiles commented without thinking how it will sound like.

Which caused a pregnant, awkward silence.

Which he now regrets.

 _Thanks for nothing, you non-existent brain-to-mouth filter_ , he thought to himself.

“You _do_ seem like one of those people without that filter,” Derek commented.

 _Wait a minute_ , Stiles thought. _Did I say that out-loud?_

“Yes, you did,” was the quick reply from Derek.

“Did I say _that_ out-loud?” Stiles asked.

“No, you didn’t” Derek explained, “But it doesn’t take a genius to know what you were thinki-”

“Can you guys _not_ flirt right now?” Jackson broke in. “We’ve got a Hunter situation going on!”

“We were _not_ flirting!” Stiles and Derek shouted at the same time, resulting in another one of those pregnant awkward moments.

“We should go,” Stiles informed Jackson and Lydia.

The small group was now walking towards one of the auxiliary hatches.

“Be careful,” Derek shouted after them.

After the rest of the crew was moved to the Hunter cruiser, space

Lydia was staring off into the limitless void of the space. She was amazed by it, felt content in it. Because in that void, she could see the beauty of it; the stars, a part of the Milky Way, the works. It was a filled void. A full void.

Unlike the void she sensed in the survivor.

To Jackson, she seemed to be taking a great comfort from its vastness (he wasn’t wrong about that). But, to his big surprise, he saw her doing something he hasn’t seen her do in a long time.

She was smiling. A full ear-to-ear toothy smile.

It warmed his heart to know she could still do that.

Stiles, however, was a mess. Sure, he liked the view and the stars (and what a sight!), but the fact that his life is being protected from the harshness of space by a few layers of plastic polymers and glass didn’t do much to calm him down.

In other words, he’d prefer watching them from inside Camaro, through its windows. Like from the cockpit. Or the dining area.

After almost running out of air, foredeck hall, Camaro

Once they triggered the five-minutes-until-air-loss alert, they opened a hatch linking to the foredeck hall and climbed down the ladder after closing it. As soon as they were on the ground, Jackson practically ripped his helmet off. Seeing that Stiles has problems with it, he decided to help him out.

“Let’s go again,” Lydia beamed.

“Later, maybe,” Jackson replied, finally detaching Stiles’ helmet from the suit. “Derek said once the coast was clear we should lay low in Allison’s shuttle.”

But Lydia wasn’t paying attention, as she was looking somewhere in the distance. She sensed a presence.

A void presence.

“He’s coming back,” she stated blankly.

“Of course he is,” Stiles replied. “They all will. Derek is probably used to these sorts of situations. We just have to be patient, that’s all. Now come on. To Allison’s shuttle.”

After Derek became a living Hunter shield, catwalk, Camaro

Once Derek was on the catwalk, he moved his senses towards Allison’s shuttle.

The senses of taste, touch and vision would be useless here, so he didn’t pay much attention to them.

So, he focused on two others: hearing and smelling.

He heard three distinct heartbeats coming from the shuttle. Focusing on his other sense, he smelled Jackson’s kanima (it smells scale-y in his opinion), Lydia’s happiness (he had no idea why) and a smell he just called Stiles.

He couldn’t really describe his scent. Just that it … is. It exists. Soothes. Calms, even.

 _So far, no sign of_ the thing, Derek thought to himself. _But at least they’re safe._

Back to ‘current’ present, dining hall

“…I can’t believe _your_ plan _actually worked_!”

“What part of it didn’t you believe in?” Derek asked.

“For instance,” Stiles started, “what if the Hunters did a heat sweep and we’d be discovered? Or if one of our suits would malfunction and we’d die? The survivor; what if he attacked us and got us all killed? Or if -”

“Those are all very specific ways about how the plan could fail,” Derek admitted, “but you can’t expect me to -”

“- to predict every possible outcome,” Stiles cut in. “I know, you already told me before. And I don’t hold it against you. In fact, I think you’ve done quite well, considering you had to think out this plan in under five minutes.”

At that praise, Derek’s heart did a little somersault and his inner wolf was enjoying the praise, howling from it. His rational part of the brain informed him that it was just a simple praise over a thing that had to be done and was morally correct.

According to _that_ part of his brain, anyways.

“You still with me?” Stiles asked, noticing Derek’s absence.

“Yeah,” he replied immediately. “So, what were you talking about with Allison and Isaac?”

“We were exchanging our adventures during the Hunter’s ‘stay’. Isaac was telling us about how the Hunter Commander called your ship ‘junk’ and how he threw a hissy-fit. It was hilarious, even though I didn’t understand a word of tech-y stuff he said. Then Allison was telling us about her interrogation. One of the questions the commander had ‘the audacity to ask’ as she put it, was ‘if she loves you’. Like, in a romantic way of love.”

“And what did she tell him?”

“That it was none of his business. As well as it was none of yours.”

“Harsh.”

“But true. I guess. Which reminds me; I haven’t really told them about my adventures in space!”

“You could tell me,” Derek offered.

“And what,” Stiles cautioned, “bore you to death with my verbal diarrhea?”

“It’s not boring.”

That did something to Stiles; Derek could smell it. It was faint, but there.

A small burst of happiness.

A hint of doubt.

To name a few he could smell out and/or see on his face.

“Okay, brace yourself, then,” Stiles warned. “So, when Jackson, Lydia and I were in space …”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to inform everyone that from here on, the updates will not be as frequent as before due to a difficult educational program I was accepted to. So, I'd like to apologise in advance.  
> Also, in meanwhile, I'd appreciate a helpful comment about anything: future story development, ideas, characters, writing style, ... Hell, even if you just wanna say hi!
> 
> By the way, I'd like to thank you all for any ammount of support you've given me so far. Feel free to make 'em keep on comin'!


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